


My End

by PerduEtSeul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Post Swan Song, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerduEtSeul/pseuds/PerduEtSeul
Summary: Sam is gone and Dean can't manage.





	My End

My End

Trigger Warning - Depression - Suicide 

Sitting on the floor at the end of another shitty hotel bed, his legs only slightly bent in front of him. The stained carpet feels gritty even through his jeans. That annoying blue bug light streaming in through the threadbare curtains. A muscle twitching at the corner of his eye when he hears the zap and pop of bugs frying on the coils. The water stains on the ceiling and the questionable stains on the wall go unnoticed by the hunter. 

A half empty square glass bottle of whiskey and his cell phone keeping him company. Flicking absently up and down the contacts lists. Feeling tears prick the back of his eyes every time he scrolls across Sam's name. Unable to find anyone he could call at a time like this. Everyone who would have cared at one point was either dead or had truly written him off years ago. Turning the phone off and tossing it on the bed behind him. 

Rubbing both hands across his face, groaning as he feels the anguish bubbling up inside again. His screams muffled by my hands. Eyes wide as he takes a deep, shaky breath. Letting his hands drop back to the floor at his sides, resting his head on the bed behind him. Blinking blindly up at the stained ceiling above him. Thoughts running wild through his brain. 

Sam is in the pit, how was he supposed to live with that? Sam took the leap and there was no way for him to come back from it. The only reason that he was alive right now is because Sam was able to gain control. And now Sam is as good as dead. That's why he's here. Knowing what he promised Sam, he just can't do it. How was he supposed to live with Sam gone? For years, Sam was the only reason that he kept going. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts. None of this mattered, not now. It would be over and done with soon. Leaning forward, gripping his 1911 laying on the corner of the table. Taking one last, long pull from the whiskey, it doesn't even burn anymore. Thumping the bottle back down, readjusting his grip on the pistol. 

Taking a last deep breath before pressing the cold barrel to his temple.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated.


End file.
